


Five Times Brenda And Sharon Argued And One Time They Kinda Didn't

by distorted_reality



Category: Major Crimes (TV), The Closer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5009740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distorted_reality/pseuds/distorted_reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let's have a glimpse at several situation when Brenda and Sharon argued and how their relationship changed over time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Last Pot of Coffee (or the question who thinks violet coffee mugs are suited for a cop shop)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarken/gifts).



> Dear, Sarken,
> 
> While we don't know each other, please, let me tell you that I enjoyed writing this story for you.
> 
> While - unfortunately - I haven't seen a single episode of Dallas (am/was I missing out?) it seems we share the love for Laura Roslin and the complicated dynamics between Sharon Raydor and Brenda Johnson. 
> 
> I read and loved your 'Dear Creator' letter. It made me want to write so many stories all at once, and when I settled for the 'Five Times- Trope', I actually started with a Laura Roslin story that died a sudden death after the first part. So I ended up with Brenda and Sharon and what they seem to do best - arguing.  
> I hope with all of my heart that this little offering is okay. If not, just yell and I'll write something new.
> 
> Much love,  
> The Writer of this story
> 
> _____________________________
> 
> All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

There weren’t many rules Brenda Leigh Johnson followed – actually, she only followed the ones she chose to – but one of them was to give in to a craving if it stuck with her for longer than ten minutes. This time she had fought it for fourteen minutes but who was counting, really? 

Although, if she didn’t get her hands on a cup of coffee within the next five minutes murder might happen. How fitting seeing that she was head of Major Crimes. Only the thought that this would mean being grilled by Internal Affairs – by that woman – for hours on end had her refrain. 

Internal Affairs… they surely had some coffee left, even at almost six in the evening. A department that orderly wouldn’t rob good cops of the means to survive, would they? They wouldn’t take the very last cup of coffee and leave for the day. Brenda twirled her pen. Almost sixteen minutes since the thought of coffee had entered her mind for the first time.

If she found out who the culprit was that had stolen what she considered her coffee, he would suffer. She wasn’t a top notch cop and the boss for nothing.

She stopped twirling her pen, got up. If she didn’t do something about the situation at hand, she would never finish that report and get home. It was pure irony that she had been staring at a report for that woman, a report she had to have finished within the next thirteen hours and thirty minutes. 

She growled under her breath. What had Raydor done to her? Since when had she ever thought about paperwork in terms of hours left to finish it? It had to be the lack of caffeine. She strode out of her office, a woman on a mission. Since it was Internal Affairs that had her in the office at that time of the night, it was only fair that they would provide her with the mean s to do her work. Simple logic.

As always Brenda was surprised by how quiet the offices were at that time of the day. It wasn’t even that late. Not that she didn’t enjoy a quiet evening at home – from time to time – but often there was just a bit more work to finish. And what the tv was offering wasn’t that compelling, really. 

She could spend more time with Fritzi, she guessed ,but even that thought didn’t make her hurry home. Actually, this was something she didn’t like to think about too much. Fritz was a good man, too good for her, really, even though he insisted he didn’t think so.

She reached her destination. One of Raydor’s officers looked up from his desk but at her look, he quickly looked back down again. She smiled. It was good to know that she could still scare a few people.   
Her guys – maybe with the exception of Gabriel – weren’t impressed by her temper any longer, tonight’s empty coffee pot glaring proof. 

There it was, the very place that had what she needed, Internal Affair’s little kitchen. She opened the door; found everything as she had expected it to, orderly, and the best thing was, there was a cup of coffee just waiting for her. She smiled.

It wasn’t that she had come down here in search for coffee before. Well, maybe once or twice.

With a sigh, she walked over to the cabinet, took out a mug – who would bring a violet mug into a cop shop - and went for the coffee pot.

“Would you mind telling me what you think you are doing?” 

What was it with that woman and her perfect grammar, her perfect enunciation? Brenda turned slowly. 

What was it with that woman and her perfect hair, really? At six in the evening. No one had perfectly coifed hair at six in the evening. This woman wasn’t natural. 

“I’d say it’s rather obvious, don’t you think?” she said with a fake smile. 

“Then I have to assume you made all your way down here to steal our coffee.”

Brenda shook her head, wondering if her smile would remain frozen in place.

“But Capt’n, it’s not stealing when we’re all playing for the same team. I’m a cop, cops need coffee to function, we don’t have any coffee left, you do. So…”

Raydor’s eyes narrowed.

“This is my coffee. If you want more coffee, how about you try to brew yourself a fresh pot upstairs.”

Another sigh, this time one of frustration, escaped Brenda. This wasn’t fair. There was all she needed just in reach and that woman made a fuss. She waved with the coffee pot in her hand.

“There’s nowhere written that this is your cup or your coffee.”

If possible Raydor looked even angrier. How anyone could look angry as hell but cold as ice at the same time would most likely always remain a mystery to her. What was about to happen when hell would freeze over anyway?   
“Actually, Chief, this is my cup. If you take a look underneath you’ll find I marked it. And now, please, hand me my cup. I am afraid we don’t have any coffee to offer you at this time.”

The nerve of that woman. In spite of herself, Brenda turned the cup in her hand to find it signed with S. Raydor. That had to be a joke. A bad one. Even Raydor couldn’t be that… that… 

“Enough with this. I was here first. I’ll have that coffee and you can brew your own. As it’s your fault I’m still here, I can as well have your coffee.”

Raydor’s and her gaze met, both women unwilling to be the one to look away first. Raydor should know she had no chance to win that one. That coffee was sold, end of story. Even if she had to remind the older woman that she was her superior. A low move, sure, but that’s what happened when a cop didn’t get her coffee.

“Captain Raydor, there’s a call for you,” a voice rang out in the background.

For a moment Brenda was sure Sharon was about to curse, but of course, she didn’t. Not Sharon Impeccable Raydor.

“One moment, Hastings.”

Raydor took a deep breath.

“You may have that coffee but if you take my cup all bets will be off.”

She turned on her heel, left without another word. Brenda looked after her, a lot gleeful, a bit angry. She reached for the coffee pot, was about to drain its content into the cup when she thought about it twice, replacing the violet cup with a white standard one. She didn’t want to be seen with such a cup anyway.

She took the coffee, switched off the machine whose pot only had about two mouthfuls of coffee left and left the kitchen. 

One day she would know what it was about Sharon Raydor what made her feel so angry… and so alive. 

For tonight she had all she needed. Coffee.


	2. The Lawyer (or the question why Brenda Leigh  Johnson seems unable to listen)

It shouldn’t be hard to understand. 

Brenda Johnson needed a lawyer and a good one at that. 

It shouldn’t be so hard to acknowledge in the first place that she was in a world of trouble. Which adult, one who had worked for the CIA and the LAPD nonetheless, would simply choose to ignore that she needed help?  
Brenda Johnson, who else?

Sitting in her office, waiting for the stubborn, mulish blonde to appear for their appointment, Sharon tapped a pen against the hard surface of her desk. The sound annoyed her, yet she found she couldn’t stop doing it either.   
Somehow this reminded her a bit of Chief Johnson. The woman annoyed her to no end, yet she couldn’t stop herself trying to help her either. Not only because it was best for the LAPD but also because the Chief was a very good police officer which had done the LAPD as much, if not more, good than she had done harm. 

The worst thing about Johnson was that the she absolutely refused to look ahead. Work for the LAPD and for the city of Los Angeles didn’t end with a confession. It was only a single step towards – hopefully – a conviction.   
Sharon reached out for her glass of water, took a sip, took a look at her watch again. Chief Jonson was ten minutes late, or eleven minutes and about twenty seconds, to be exact. If the Chief had forgotten about their appointment, didn’t feel like it or simply wanted to have it happen on her terms was anybody’s guess, though. 

While Johnson was definitely suited for her job, Sharon doubted she would’ve gotten it if it hadn’t been for her affair with Pope. Of course, she could see Pope’s reason for bringing her in. Johnson was a genius in her own way. But sometimes Sharon doubted Will Pope had considered all consequences of employing this woman as Chief.

Too bad there needed to be someone to remind the woman that she couldn’t just waltz through life, consequences be damned. Sharon couldn’t help but wonder when she had become that someone. It was not as if Johnson wanted her help. If it came to Major Crimes, Sharon Raydor was just short of being the devil itself.

How a bunch of such disorderly men led by a chaotic whirlwind could produce such good results would forever remain a mystery to Sharon. She knew her thoughts were a little bit unfair right now, but honestly, she hated to wait, to waste time that could’ve used differently. Of course, she could start with one of the reports due tomorrow, but her concentration was lacking. 

Sharon took another sip of water, considered fetching herself some water instead. She would give Johnson another five minutes. What was it that had Johnson hate rules with such a passion?

The rules defining the LAPD’s work had been put into place for reasons. Good reasons. While Sharon conceded that not every rule made sense every single time, that life was grey instead of black and white, these rules were a guideline that if followed would make all of their professional lives easier. 

There was a slight knock at her door before it opened, Brenda Johnson walking in, defiance written all over her features. Sharon almost laughed out. This woman had the best poker face in the LAPD, got confessions where it seemed impossible that the suspect would ever crack, yet, when met with Internal Affairs her dislike seemed to ooze out of her. Well, maybe it was because Johnson didn’t see a reason why she should try hiding her feelings. After all one couldn’t hurt Sharon Raydor, right?

Sharon quickly shoved that thought aside. It wasn’t worth contemplating it now, or ever, really. She had known what she would get into when she had decided to join Internal Affairs, and she was always ready to bear the consequences of her decisions, quite unlike someone else she knew. 

“Chief Johnson, how wonderful you could make it after all.”

The blonde stood behind Sharon’s visitor chair, waved Sharon’s remark aside.

“I had something important to finish first. Now, what is so important here that you had to disrupt my rather full work day?”

If Sharon had thought shaking the slight blonde until she saw reason, she would’ve done it. 

“I see you still have absolutely no sense of self-preservation or of the danger you put the LAPD into.”

“Danger? What kind of danger?”

Of course, attack was the best defense when it came to Johnson. Sharon didn’t answer what had been a rhetoric question anyway, waited for the storm to blow over.

“I did my work, Capt’n Raydor. And I really wished you’d stop harassing me for it. This got old very fast and honestly, if you don’t have anything ‘important’ to tell me I’ll head back to work. Not all of us spend half of our days with trying to dot every i.”

Three, two, one… Sharon took a calming breath.

“And what about the other half?”

Johnson furrowed her brow.

“The other half of what?”

It was so easy to get to the blonde if one knew which button to press. This knowledge shouldn’t make Sharon feel good but it did. Not that it would help solve the problem at hand.

“What do you think I am doing with the other half of my day?”

She raised a hand before Brenda could speak.

“Let me guess, you think I spent it with harassing hard working officers who would do better with doing their jobs than answering my silly questions, dictated by an even sillier rule book.”  
Bull’s eye. Sometimes it was Brenda seeing the world in black and white, even though Sharon knew she would never admit to it.

“Listen, if you will not get your head out of… the sand you will end up in a world of trouble. We all will end up in a world of trouble.”

“Did you almost say what I think you were about to say?”

“That’s what you took away from what I just said?”

Sharon could feel her ire rise. She realized she had an iron grip on her pen, that her hand had begun to hurt. 

“Well, it’s not like you to curse.”

“I didn’t curse. I was just emphasizing a point.”

Johnson shook her head. 

“Sometimes I think you could be a good cop if you didn’t…”

“If I didn’t what? Work for the devil? B e the devil? If I didn’t swallow a rule book?”

God, hadn’t she sworn herself after that outburst in Pope’s office that she wouldn’t let Johnson get under her skin again? Only that woman…

“You know what? I think you should get back to your work. I see there is absolutely nothing I can tell you that you are willing to listen to.”

Johnson’s eyes widened. The blonde hadn’t expected that, for sure. Well, even Sharon Raydor had a breaking point, and by now she had enough. She had her own work to finish and not all the time in the world to spare it on someone who was intent on digging her own grave.

“I…”

Sharon interrupted the Chief, the fact the other woman was her superior be damned.

“If you be so kind, close the door behind you.”

As so often before their gazes met and Sharon saw the indecision in Johnson’s eyes, and it made Sharon wonder what the other woman would do next. Right now, she couldn’t tell. 

Though then Brenda looked away, and with a curt nod, she turned around, left. She even closed the door quietly. Sharon released the breath she had been holding along with the pen in her hand, flexing her fingers.   
If hell meant turning in endless circles, it seemed she had found her personal hell. It was named Brenda Leigh Johnson.


	3. The  Ticket (or the question why Brenda makes a fuss over something clearly not worth it)

Being in the same room as Sharon Raydor and wanting to pull rank seemed to go hand in hand, at least when it came to Brenda. For someone who usually didn’t care much for rank at all, this was saying quiet a lot, or at least that had been what Raydor – no, Sharon – oh, for cryin’ out loud Captn’ Raydor had said the last time they had argued about something. 

They were arguing a lot, it seemed, or was it simply that arguing was what they were best at? Brenda felt like pulling her hair, a storm brewing inside her while Raydor seemed calm, as if she were simply waiting to see what Brenda would do next.

Want Brenda wanted to do was easy. She wanted to grab that ticket and make a run for it. Or rather, as it would be more dignified – open her hand, waiting for the ticket to be handed to her, before she strode into her office, her head held high.

It should be hers anyway. What had Julio been thinking when he gave that baseball ticket to Sharon – of all people. If he wasn’t interested in going himself, he should know there were a handful of people who would love to take his place. 

Damn it, she was his boss, his friend, had weathered some storms with him, and still he had given the ticket to Sharon. Not that Brenda was that keen on baseball, not at all, but it would’ve been a nice gesture if he had offered it to her first. 

Of course she had asked him why but his answer that he didn’t think she liked baseball, that Provenza and Flynn had tickets anyway, that he knew that Gabriel had plans and that Tao wouldn’t care didn’t ring quite right to her.   
And now, there was Raydor, the ticket in her hand, refusing to give it up and her whole team was staring at the two of them. Brenda didn’t need to look around to know that they were watched with a mixture of fascination and dread. She knew that their fights were all but legendary within the walls of the LAPD. 

A small voice inside her posed the question if she wasn’t acting childish and should let go now, right now, before she made an utter fool of herself, but it was easily quenched when another wave of frustration wanted to consume her.   
“He would’ve offered it to me if he had known I was interested, you know,” she said, knowing how weak an argument it was.

This discussion was slipping out of her grasp; heck, her life was slipping out of her grasp. The trial averted, she was faced with a mole in her own department, there was something not quite right with her marriage and going to work was more of a chore than a solace lately. Brenda knew she had lost her balance, but she had no idea how to win it back. 

“If the game is so important to you, why don’t you go and buy yourself a ticket. Even if the game is sold out, you can usually acquire tickets right before the game. There’s always someone who is willing to sell his or her ticket for a price not quite fair.”  
Brenda didn’t even listen. She had enough. Enough of Raydor, enough of her work, her marriage, her life… It seemed no matter how loud she screamed, no one even seemed to listen or to care. Not even herself.

When she tried arguing with Fritz about anything, really, he either tried to placate her, erupted and left or turned away, and she was left alone with a storm of emotions that wouldn’t dissipate on its own. At least Raydor had used to argue back. While the other woman still stood her ground – unlike Fritz who most often would give up sooner or later – she didn’t fight fire with fire any longer. 

If it was because she wanted to take the high road or because she considered arguing with Brenda useless , Brenda didn’t know. 

“Why don’t y’all go back to work,” she said, looking at her team members who quickly looked down, pretending to work. 

She looked at Raydor a moment longer before she turned walked into her office. How one could feel numb while practically boiling over with suppressed emotions was a mystery to her, but she was living proof it was possible. Maybe she should see the gym later and try her luck with one of the facility’s sand bags. At least they would offer her a good fight. 

She was about to close the door behind her when she noticed Raydor had followed her, slipping into her office behind her. Raydor closed the door, drew the blinds and for some reason it made Brenda even angrier.

“What do you think you’re doing here?”

“Trying to talk some sense into you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Brenda hissed out.

“Well,” Sharon put her hands into the pockets of her blazer. “Excuse me, but I found your behaviour rather peculiar today. You were acting rather childish and unreasonable out there.”

“Don’t you lecture me about my behaviour. I was just stating facts. This ticket should have been mine, but really, if you’re so intent on having it, then by…”

“You could tell me, you know.”

“Tell you what?”

“What’s really bothering you.”

It was laughable but for a moment Brenda truly considered spilling her thoughts and feelings to this woman of all people.

“Nothing, really nothing.”

Hadn’t she thought no one cared only a few minutes ago? And now she didn’t want anyone to care. God, she craved some chocolate right now. It was so near and yet so far, as she’d do everything but give in to her craving right in front of Raydor. 

“A blind person can see that you’re troubled by something,” Raydor tried again. 

“Then take a look into the next best mirror, will you? It doesn’t matter what I do, you’re always there. First Internal Affairs was riding our back and no you are a permanent fixture, lecturing us all to heaven and back. I have no idea what Will was thinking when he…”

Sharon raised a hand.

“Let’s not go into all the reasons once more. You know them as well as I do. If you want to make my person the reason for all the misery in the entire world, please go ahead. You and I both know that this won’t solve your problem, whatever it is. But you’re treading a dangerous path here and if you don’t stop this, you might ruin your career for good.”

Brenda hated her right now. She balled her hands into fists, counted to ten. Yes, she hated Sharon for being right. 

“I think…,” Brenda began.

“I should be going now. Yes, I think you are right.”

Sharon left and Brenda didn’t move for a few minutes. Okay, so she needed to get a grip. She could do that, right? And she would start with chocolate, some work, followed by a work out in the gym. 

Things would be okay if she just believed it or ignored them for long enough, right?


	4. The Stapler (or the question why Brenda can’t get to the  point… once again)

Of course it wasn’t about the stapler. As it seemed to be her habit, though, Brenda said one thing while meaning something else entirely.

Sharon hadn’t been surprised to find Brenda storming into her office – the blonde’s former office as it was – a few days after Sharon had moved in – had expected it, really – but she was surprised by the reason the former Chief had found to make the trip.

“You need the stapler… that stapler?”

She held out the item in question, looking from the stapler to the blonde. Even though she knew why Brenda was here, she couldn’t believe her predecessor hadn’t found a less flimsy excuse.

“I… yes. The one at the new office is a nightmare. One shouldn’t spend more time with paperwork than really necessary. You wouldn’t believe how much stuff I had to print anew because that… thing ripped holes into it instead of stapling it.”

If Sharon thought this had more to do with the force applied to the stapler than the oh so offending item itself, she kept her mouth shut. She only looked at Brenda now who looked annoyed but also desperate. 

Sharon understood way too well. Her own world had been turned upside down within the last two weeks. From the very much hated Internal Investigations to Major Crimes – the LAPD’s golden child and being hated by what was now her team hadn’t been a relaxing experiences. To add to that, she was now dealing with a moody, traumatized teenager that was needed for the Stroh case and didn’t seem to have anyone to care for him apart of her. 

So if Brenda thought she was the only one with a tough deal, she was wrong. There was no sense in mentioning any of this, though. Not only was Brenda a very intelligent woman, but she was also as stubborn – if not more – as a mule. If she wanted to vent her frustration here, Sharon wouldn’t be able to stop her.

From enemy to almost friend back to enemy. Their relationship had always been interesting. Still, it was late and Sharon was tired, hungry, was battling a headache for the last few hours. She might understand Brenda, but she wasn’t willing to play along with such childish behaviour. 

Even if it was a cry for help? Sharon shoved the thought away.

“Well, I am rather sure you will be able to obtain a different stapler over at the LA County District Attorney Bureau of Investigation. Why don’t you go and take a look there before you try to find one here.”  
It seemed Brenda had expected compliance, after all, going by the look of surprise on the blonde’s face.

“Why don’t ‘you’ go and find a new one. This one is mine.”

“Nothing here was truly ever yours. And nothing here will ever be truly mine. We get to use the property and its assets to do our jobs. As soon as our job here is finished, we have to leave while the assets will remain. “

Brenda rolled her eyes. “Do you ever talk like a normal human being? Just once in am month. Every full moon, maybe? Or do you have robots in the family that meddled with your DNA? Geez, just give me the damn thing and I’ll be outta your hair.”

She reached for it, but Sharon refused to let go, so if Brenda didn’t want to try and pry Sharon’s hand open, she’d have to let go of it. 

“Why are you doing this?” Brenda asked.

“Holding on to the stapler? It belongs to this office.”

“You don’t belong to this office.”

“I might not, only time will tell, but unfortunately for yourself you burned any and all bridges. Are you even aware how lucky you are that you still have a job?”

If Brenda’s voice had risen, so had Sharon’s. It was only good that they were alone here. Sharon didn’t feel like giving anyone a show right now. 

“I did what I had to do. It’s as simple as that. But I guess there’s no paragraph about pragmatic behaviour in that precious rule book of yours.”

Brenda let go of the stapler and Sharon put it onto her desk before she got up. She rounded the desk until she stood right in front of Brenda.

“Enough is enough. I get that you are annoyed, I get that you hate the fact that they gave me your job, even though it doesn’t come with the rank or the payment nowadays, but I have no plan to be your scapegoat. I would advise you to leave, find yourself a stapler and look for a way to reduce your frustrations.”

 

The look in Brenda’s eyes would’ve scared quite a few people, but it didn’t scare Sharon. She was used of people spitting venom in her presence. She just looked back, wondered what Brenda would see in her eyes, or if she was too caught up in her anger to see past it. 

“I knew you were trouble the first time I laid my eyes on you.”

Sharon laughed out. “I only needed to read your file to come to the same result.”

“I want this to stop.”

“Then make it stop.”  
While Sharon had no idea what Brenda was talking about right now, she knew that Brenda was the only one who could make any real change to her life. 

Something lit up in the younger woman’s eyes, and she turned around, but before she could make even one step towards the door, she turned to Sharon again, shaking her head. Sharon watched her, wondered what was about to come next, but she wasn’t prepared for two rather strong arms grabbing her and pulling her close so they were all but pressed against each other.

“What…”

Brenda’s lips on hers were a surprise on so many levels. Not only had she never expected that move from the younger woman but she was surprised by the softness of those lips that was in stark contrast to the pressure applied.   
What shocked her most, though, was her body’s own reaction; the shiver down her back, the sharp stab of desire. 

Brenda backed away, her eyes a little wild now and Sharon thought she saw tears forming in the younger woman’s eyes.

“I only want it to stop.”

Brenda turned again but this time she all but ran out of the office. Sharon reached up, touched her lips with her fingertips.

What now? What had that been about? What did she want it to be about? She shivered, now from exhaustion, the cold, the shock. Something had changed in the paradigm of her relationship to Brenda, but what that would mean for her future, Brenda’s future, if it meant anything at all would remain to be seen.


	5. The Lawyer II (or the question why Brenda needs advice from Sharon, of all people)

Brenda hated to ask for help. Especially when the best person to ask was someone who wasn’t quite her enemy but certainly wasn’t her friend. Not anymore, at least. Or never at all. The person she had kissed, although she hadn’t wanted to kiss her. Well, maybe not consciously, although she wondered if it had been mere anger or her subconscious trying to tell her something. Not that she would want to listen in case it did.

This situation gave Brenda a headache, and no amount of chocolate, caffeine and Tylenol seemed to help. God, how she hated it when she knew what to do, just didn’t like it.

Taking a deep breath, then another, she knew she was as ready as she would ever be, so she left her car and walked toward the apartment complex in front of her. The moment she wanted to press the button to Sharon Raydor’s apartment, she stopped, realized there was a glitch to her plan. 

Sharon didn’t live alone any longer. She had taken in Rusty, when no one else had wanted to do. The thought of Rusty made her feel even guiltier. After all, it was her who had promised the boy help and had abandoned him the moment he had served his purpose. And now, months later, she still hadn’t contacted him, hadn’t apologized.

Was she really that kind of person? Waltzing through life, not caring who crossed her path and what kind of damage she left behind. It was an ugly thought and one she wasn’t ready to face either.   
Oh for god’s sake, it was her own inability to face anything regarding her relationships to other people that had brought her here tonight.

She walked back to her car, took a seat before digging for her mobile in her tote bag. It took an obscenely long time. Maybe she should buy a smaller one, but where would she put all the stuff she needed then?

Without hesitation and thinking twice, she looked for Sharon’s mobile number, dialed. To her surprise the other woman picked up at second ring. Although, she was as much a cop as Brenda would always be. You never got over being on call.

“Brenda, what a surprise. What can I do for you?”

Straight for the jugular, of course. Not that Brenda needed or even wanted pleasantries. The obvious necessity of them puzzled her most of the days anyway.

“I need a lawyer, and I thought you could point me to one.”

“Oh, god, what did you do this time?”

Brenda couldn’t help but feel offended. What was it that had Sharon expect the worst of her all the time?

“I didn’t do anything. I just need a lawyer.”

Sharon sighed, and Brenda could imagine the weary look on her face while she rubbed at her temple. 

“Don’t you think that is something we better talk about face to face? Why don’t you come and see me in the office tomorrow morning. I’m sure the team would love…”

“I want to talk to you now,” Brenda blurted out. “I’m in my car, in front of your apartment building.”

It wasn’t what she had wanted to say. At all. But now it was out and there was silence at the other end of the line.

“Do I want to know why you didn’t ring the bell?”

“No, you don’t. Do you think you could come out and talk to me here?”

“Brenda, this is ridiculous.”

“Please?”

It wasn’t something she said often. Brenda was used to demand things to happen, not to ask for them, and she didn’t like it. Nor did she like the few seconds that passed until Sharon finally answered her.

“Give me five minutes.”

With that the line went dead. Brenda put her phone away, tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. What was it with time that it seemed to fly when you desperately needed more of it but didn’t seem to pass when you really wanted it to?

Finally, she saw Sharon appearing in the doorway. To Brenda’s surprise she was clad in a pair of jeans, a shirt and a thick, comfortable cardigan. Brenda realized she had never seen her wear anything else but suits. Well, it wasn’t as if she had seen Sharon on a social basis.

The other woman got into the car, not wasting any time.

“Let me repeat, this is ridiculous. But now that I’m here, would you please tell me what you did that necessitates a lawyer?”

It was now or never, and although she preferred never, she knew she should see this through.

“I asked Fritz for a divorce, and now I need a lawyer.”

Sharon remained silent but her eyes widened.

“What? You don’t wanna tell me I suck at life? At marriage?”

She knew she sounded bitter, but she didn’t have the strength to pretend to feel okay.

“No, I don’t. And although I’m not divorced I think I know the right person for you.”

“You really don’t know when it’s time to quit, ever, huh?”

Brenda knew she shouldn’t have said it, but it grated her nerves how Sharon could be so calm and aloof when she herself felt as if her whole world had shattered.

“Maybe I like to think things through before I throw them away carelessly. The world doesn’t revolve around me, and it might surprise you but it doesn’t revolve around you either.”

“There’s no need to be rude.”

“You started it.”

“No, you did, all these years ago.”

Brenda knew she was spoiling for a fight, had to stop it. She took a breath that calmed her less than she had hoped it would.

“Anyway, if you could give me that name now, I’d be grateful.”

Sharon laughed out. 

“You really have some nerves.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She faced Sharon who looked at her as if she just couldn’t believe Brenda’s erratic behaviour. Still, Brenda didn’t want to own up to it.

“I mean that you can’t yell at me, kiss me, forget to tell me why that kiss happened, ignore me and then call me because you need me only to yell at me again.”

Brenda winced, looked outside the car once more.

“Please, I only need that name, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

This time it was Sharon who surprised her by reaching out, cupping her jaw, turning Brenda to face her. Gentle, she was so gentle was all Brenda could think. She was about to question Sharon when Sharon’s lips were on hers, the brunette’s tongue slipping inside her slightly opened mouth, stroking her own tongue once before she withdrew.

“Now, maybe you have something else to think about. I will text you the lawyer’s name later.”

Without another look, Sharon opened the passenger door and left, not turning back even once. Brenda remained sitting as she was, totally in shock yet alive in a way that made her long to feel more of this, of Sharon. This was so wrong, or was it? She didn’t know any longer.

With shaking hands she started the car. She needed to get away, she needed a big glass of Merlot and she needed to think.


	6. The Divorce (or the question why it took these two so damned long)

She hadn’t heard of Brenda in almost three months. After the younger woman had needed her help with finding a lawyer there hadn’t been any further contact. Again.

Although it shouldn’t bother Sharon, she was disappointed. There was something about the blonde that made everything a little brighter. Not always in a positive sense but Sharon couldn’t remember a single time she had remained unaffected by the other woman’s actions. 

It had something to do with the kiss – kisses – as well, Sharon wasn’t about to start to lie to herself right now. She knew Brenda and she had unfinished business, but it wasn’t clear if or when one of the two of them would address this particular issue. They were both stubborn, after all.

Sharon had just left the office for the day, walked to her car in the parking garage when she was surprised to find the lithe blonde leaning against it. For a second Sharon considered turning around but she wasn’t a coward. 

It had been a long day, a grueling one and all she wanted was to go home and immerse herself in a book after dinner with Rusty. Seeing that it was Friday, she hoped for some true rest over the weekend.

It seemed rest had to wait a while longer. 

Brenda watched her approaching, a sad smile on her face. In spite of herself it tore at Sharon’s heart, and she knew she would have a hard time to keep her grudge. As Sharon had no idea what to say to Brenda, the other woman remaining silent as well, Sharon just leaned against the car beside Brenda.

They had to make quite a sight, two women leaning against a car, looking out into a semi-dark parking garage. What would people think if they saw them now? Brenda with her blonde hair and her white trench coat was in stark contrast to Sharon with her brunette hair and her dark trench coat. Would they see an angel and the demon that had crept out of the pit that was IA? Sharon knew some people were still thinking that. Or would they see a devil in disguise that had ended them in a lot of trouble and the former enemy that was now turning into a savior? Both accounts were wrong. Sharon realized her thoughts had drifted, that some minutes must have passed. She turned her head a little so she could look at Brenda who was still staring ahead.

“I’m still too much of a coward to come to your home,” the blonde mumbled.

“Because of Rusty?”

“He has to hate me.”

Sharon shrugged. “He is disappointed, of course, he would be angry if he saw you now, of course, after all he’s a teenager, but he would get over it as well and be pleased to see you. You can’t run away from problems all the time. You have to face them, for better or worse.”

“I know.”

At a different time Sharon would have smiled at how resigned Brenda sounded. 

“I got my divorce papers earlier today.”

“And do you want my condolences or my congratulations now?”

Sharon didn’t want to sound mean, but why was it that Brenda seemed to end up with her each time she ended in a difficult situation. Sharon knew, being the workaholic Brenda was, the woman didn’t have many friends but it wasn’t as if Sharon could be considered a friend.

“No, I want you to forgive me.”

It was said so quietly that Sharon wasn’t sure she had heard alright. She moved so she stood in front of Brenda.

“There’s no need to forgive you, Brenda.”

The blonde’s eyes sparkled, a bit of the usual fired coming alive again in the woman’s eyes. 

“Are you sure? I think I remember a few times you were a little bit… cross with me.”

“A few times? “ Sharon laughed out.

“I think we both know how to push each other’s buttons.”

Brenda nodded. “We do. And I know it wasn’t alright to ask you for help and not give a sign of life for months.”

“You don’t owe me a thing, Brenda, really. You owe something to Rusty but not to me.”

Brenda winced.

“Thanks for bringing that up again. Anyway, you sure? I think after… after… well, two kisses, there’s some kind of… connection… that means one doesn’t just run off.” 

Brenda rolled her eyes at her own words, and Sharon was tempted to do the same.

“It wasn’t exactly text book kisses, Brenda. We can forget about it and move on. Let’s chalk it up to emotionally challenging times.”

Sharon hated herself for trying to take the coward’s way out now, after all. But no one knew what would happen if they tried to untangle this complicate web of emotions that seemed to exist between them. Brenda wasn’t the only one who was good at ignoring emotional bonds. There was a reason Sharon still wasn’t divorced although she was living separated for over a decade.

“And if I don’t want to chalk it up to this?”

Brenda finally met her gaze. There was a certainty in the other woman’s eyes that scared Sharon.

“What… if I want to do it again. Just better.”

Brenda smiled, a bit hesitantly - and without meaning to, Sharon found herself looking at Brenda’s lips with a mixture of fascination and longing. How was she to survive this woman when she kept unsettling her again and again? Sharon knew her breathing had sped up, and she didn’t try to deny the fact that butterflies seemed to have taken root in her stomach.

God, she wasn’t sure if she was up to deal with all that was Brenda Johnson.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Sharon said.

“But you’re also not sure if it’s a bad idea either.”

“Brenda, what are you trying to do here?”

The other woman straightened, stepped closer.

“I want to do something right in my life. And… I want to do something for myself. And you know, I start to think you’re not the worst thing that ever happened in my life.”

Sharon snorted.

“Not the worst thing?”

“I was agitated by your very existence for a long time.”

“How flattering. Anyway, are you trying to tell me that stopped?”

Brenda shook her head. She was so close now that she was well into Sharon’s personal space. 

“No, and that’s the funny thing. You still drive me up the wall, but I found I kinda like you, too.”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah.”

Brenda nodded. 

“Now how about that second chance. Will you grant it to me?”

Sharon didn’t know what was right or wrong any longer. She only knew she seemed unable to resist Brenda. And damn this woman to be the first one to ask her about her assent to a kiss in decades. Although Brenda hadn’t asked for assent that first time, and Sharon hadn’t asked Brenda either the second time they kissed. Not that it was strictly necessary. But sexy… 

Sharon almost growled out, wanted this chaos of thoughts to stop. This was all Brenda’s fault. Or not…

“Sharon?”

“Yes.”

She had spoken without meaning, too, but it didn’t matter as Brenda bridged the last bit of distance between the two of them. Her lips on Sharon’s weren’t a shock this time, but still Sharon’s whole body seemed to become alive.   
Her arms came around Brenda’s waist the same moment Brenda’s hands tangled in her hair. The kiss was soft, yet the tongue swiping along Sharon’s lower lip next was demanding, just like the woman in her arms. Sharon’s lips parted and their tongues tangled with each other, another exciting battle of wills. The kiss seemed to go on and on but then the need for breath had them part. 

“I think we should leave before we give anyone a show, don’t you think?”

Brenda’s voice was huskier than usual. And why was it Brenda who had thought about this first. Wasn’t Sharon the responsible one?

“You’re right.”

“But I don’t want to stop.”

“Me neither.”

Honesty, in the long run, was always the best course, even when it felt scary. Who knew when Brenda would change her mind. Or maybe Sharon would decide this was too crazy an idea to contemplate. They both were difficult women with difficult pasts, there was Rusty, there was the fact she was basically married, there was... No, she had to stop this train of thought. There was more to life than work and thoughts that ran in circles, wasn't there?

“But there’s one problem,” Sharon continued with a smile, shoving her worries aside at least for tonight.

“Which is?”

“You don’t want to come into my home. And Rusty’s waiting, so…”

Brenda groaned out. “Alright, you win. Time to act like a grown up.”

“I’ll invite you for dinner, too.”

“Only if there’s dessert.”

Leave it to Brenda and her sweet tooth that Sharon wasn’t quite sure if she was talking about food or not.

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Good. And then there should be more of that.”

She gave Sharon a quick kiss, before stepping bag.

“I’m ready to go.”

Sharon knew this, whatever it was, wouldn’t be easy, and maybe end in a catastrophe sooner or later. 

But maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it would be… good.


End file.
